Just Another Night
by plkphoto
Summary: A moment of forgetfulness leads to a night Grissom will never forget. GSR. Hank. Originally written for the "Comedy of Errors" challenge at LFAS. No spoilers, but some icky descriptions.


**Author's Note:** This was originally written for the "Comedy of Errors" challenge at the LiveJournal community **lastficstanding**, and was unbeta'd with a limit of 500-1000 words. I have subsequently taken into account the constructive criticism I received, broken the word limit, and had **smacky30** beta for me (Thank you!).

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**Just Another Night**

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In the split second that elapsed between the ominous crack and the sudden plunge, Grissom had enough time to realize that his night was not about to improve. Unfortunately, he could do nothing to avert his fate. As he felt the slimy coolness envelop him, he wondered what karmic law he had offended to incite Murphy's wrath.

Grissom was willing to admit, in fact he had already admitted, that the mayhem that began their evening was entirely his fault, but this latest humiliation was surely undeserved. Had he not paid enough for his small moment of forgetfulness?

His downfall had begun when he decided to clean out the refrigerator before bed. Though the cleaning went quickly and well, he had not remembered to take out the garbage afterward. The knowledge that a sleepy brunette awaited him may have explained his lapse but certainly did not excuse it.

For once they both had slept well, blissfully unaware that their normally well-behaved boxer had found the enticing smell of rotten food too much temptation to resist. As usual, Sara woke first and rose silently to start the coffee. Grissom's earliest intimation that something was amiss came when a loud yelp startled him out of sleep. Sara's bare foot had encountered a puddle of regurgitated refuse just outside the bedroom door.

Grissom was contrite, apologizing profusely to both Sara and Hank, whose gurgling stomach indicated ongoing distress. As Sara prepared a light meal, Grissom let Hank out into the yard, opened all the windows, and systematically cleaned up the fragrant mix of garbage, vomit, and diarrhea.

Over coffee, they decided to leave Hank with the emergency vet for observation since they did not want to bring a sick dog to the sitter. Grissom was nominated to take him so Sara could arrive characteristically early for work. Hopefully, this would keep them from arousing suspicion among their colleagues, who were, as far as they could tell, still unaware of their relationship.

As Sara said, "If I'm late, there will be questions, assumptions, and general impertinence. If you're late, you can just give your patented Grissom glare and everyone will shut up and at least try to hide their curiosity."

This was just precautionary. Though the vet's office was across town, Grissom should have had ample time to make it back to the lab before shift started.

Grissom draped a blanket over his backseat, and then coaxed Hank onto it. Hank circled several times before he lay down, bunching the blanket beneath him into a satisfactory bed. Grissom eyed him warily, but decided against returning to the house to find another cover.

Two blocks from their destination, a familiar acrid stench drifted forward from the rear of the vehicle. Grissom turned to see a dark stain spreading rapidly across the bare leather of the seat and onto the floor below, and he let out an aggravated groan. Hank peered back mournfully, and Grissom reached back to scratch his ears in forgiveness, resolving to buy some carpet and leather cleaner on his way home. A loud horn blaring let him know that the light had turned green.

After leaving Hank with the vet, Grissom started back for the lab. Though he usually tried to avoid the Strip at this time of night, when the vacationers were still out in droves and often intoxicated, it was the most direct route. He cruised down the familiar street, ignoring the gaudy casinos, and focusing on the road ahead. Unfortunately, the rubber-necking tourist behind him apparently neglected to realize that one of the many lights was actually a traffic signal, and that, even in Vegas, red means stop. Grissom was jolted forward against his seat belt as the man struck his bumper with a sickening metallic crunch.

Luckily the damage to both vehicles was minimal, but they still had to obtain a police report for insurance purposes. They watched as the officer took witness statements and measured skid marks, and Grissom listened patiently as the embarrassed man continued to apologize. Still, Grissom cynically thought that rear-ending a member of law enforcement would likely make a good story when the traveler returned home.

Despite this latest delay, Grissom managed to arrive at the lab a mere fifteen minutes after their shift officially began. However, the assignment slips were already missing from his mail slot, and when he arrived at the break room, only Greg and Sara were waiting for him.

Sara explained, "Cath pulled rank. She took Nick and Warrick to process an armed bank robbery and left us to handle this one with you." She handed him an assignment sheet. "Brass is the detective on the case: a body found floating in a pool. Neighbors called it in when the smell became, quote, worse than usual, unquote."

Despite this bleak warning, they were unprepared for the utter filth they found. After a cursory walk through, Grissom ordered Greg to process the house. Every surface was littered with discarded food scraps and mouse droppings, and cockroaches skittered across the floor under the beams of their flashlights. The pungent smell of urine saturated the air, almost masking the underlying smells of mold and rotting food. Greg donned a mask and half-jokingly asked Grissom if he should get a biohazard suit as well.

Grissom and Sara started with the backyard pool, which was almost lost amid the piled beer cans and broken appliances that covered the surrounding area. It may once have been a yard, but now only a few tufts of grass poked out through the spaces between the junk heaps.

The water itself hosted a veritable ecosystem, choked with slimy green algae and teeming with mosquito larvae. The distinctive odor of decomposing flesh rose strongly above the reek of the bog. A bloated corpse, barely recognizable among the anchoring algal strands, floated directly below a decrepit diving board, as if the body may have fallen from it.

In a moment of uncharacteristic chivalry, likely motivated by residual guilt over the morning's escapade, Grissom had offered to process the platform. He found a single set of footprints on the dusty surface, leading out to the edge. Leaving his kit on the concrete pad surrounding the pool, he photographed the prints and took some shots of the body and the yard.

While processing the far end of the platform, Grissom noticed a smear of blood and some hairs stuck to the sharp edge. As he turned to retrieve his kit, a loud crack echoed across the yard and he felt the ground disappear from beneath his feet.

Consequently, he found himself pondering karma as he plunged into the thick water. He fought his way back up through the surface scum, only to come face to rotting face with the corpse. Spluttering, he spun quickly away and coughed out a mouthful of algae.

As he dug the slime from his ears, he realized that Sara was yelling, "Griss! You okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he called back, and began to struggle toward her, still clinging to his camera.

Sara grimaced as she took it from him, then extended her other hand to help pull him from the pool. Grissom stood there, covered in dripping green tendrils, and watched as her expression changed slowly from concern to amusement.

"I am having," he stated, "a 'terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.'"

Sara chuckled. "Are you thinking of moving to Australia? 'Cause that might not be a bad idea after Brass shares those photos."

Grissom glanced over to see the detective pocketing his cell phone with a decidedly mischievous glint in his eye.

Before Grissom could do more than glare, Sara continued, "And what happened to Shakespeare?"

He turned back to her and cocked his head. "Will this do? 'A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, we bid be quiet when we hear it cry; but were we burdened with like weight of pain, as much or more we should ourselves complain.'"

"Ah, 'Comedy of Errors,' very apropos." She nodded slowly, a smirk spreading across her face.

Grissom shrugged then winked. Apparently this move exaggerated his creature-from-the-black-lagoon appearance because Sara suddenly lost control. As her beautiful laugh rang out, he realized that today might not turn out so very badly after all.

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**Author's Note #2:** If for some reason you'd like to see this story in its original form, it was Fic #3 in Round 2 Challenge 1 at the LiveJournal Community **lastficstanding**.

Thanks for reading! Any feedback is always appreciated.


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